


5 Cliches That Didn't Lead To A Kiss and 1 That Did

by sinecure



Category: Community
Genre: 5 Things, F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-04
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-25 16:46:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinecure/pseuds/sinecure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title says it all, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I don't own Community, if I did I would be awesome.  
> SPOILERS: Late season 2 maybe?

"Is he still there?" Jeff asked in a low voice.

Annie sighed and reached for the doorknob. "This is stupid, Jeff. Let's just-- hey!" Jeff's hand slapped hers, making her lose her grip on the doorknob. She slapped his hand back and he lightly hit her shoulder... and then they were catfighting as she tried to get to the door and he tried to keep her from it. After a dozen slaps, she hit Jeff hard on his arm and then stomped as far away from him as she could. All three feet. "Ugh! Jeff, this is stupid--"

"You already said that."

"--and I have class in..." She checked her watch in the dim janitor's closet. The naked bulb--energy efficient, compact fluorescent--wasn't working for some reason, so all she had to go by was the blue LED light on her watch. She'd be late if she didn't leave. "Now."

Jeff had his ear pressed to the door, listening. " _You_ try being the Dean's favorite plushie and then we'll talk." His chuckle sounded throughout the room. "See what I did there?"

She ignored him and talked louder, knowing that, with Jeff, talking over him usually resulted in him doing his little hand thingy, but it wouldn't work this time because she couldn't see it.

Ha.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah, well, if I were, I wouldn't just run from him like a six-year-old caught stealing a cookie and afraid to face mommy."

"My mother was a saint!"

Annie lessened her glare a little since he couldn't see it anyway, even after he turned toward her. Well, she thought he had. His dark, shadowy shape wasn't much more than a tall blob. She dropped her arms to her sides in surprise. "What?"

"Spending a half and hour with Abed, talking about tv plots and tropes and romantic plot twists and other things I know nothing about? Not so priceless. It was pretty pricey actually. I stopped listening after ten minutes--I know, I can't believe I lasted that long either--but then I just started yelling out random movie quotes, which sent him meandering down some road that I prefer not to travel." She saw his frame shift in a shrug. "It kept him busy while I got to play-- I mean text."

Her annoyance with Jeff grew again now that she didn't think he was working through some sort of mommy-issues. "That's actually kind of mean. Argh! Jeff, this is--" She cut herself off with a foot stomp, highly aware she was coming off as petulant, but unable to care when she was going to be marked as tardy. "The Dean is harmless. He just wants you--"

"Ya think?"

She raised her voice to talk over him. "To _participate_ in the dunk tank at the fair. What's so bad about that? And, why'd you drag _me_ into your little runaway episode anyway?"

He grabbed her biceps suddenly, startling her as he leaned down toward her. "Annie... he wants it to be a doodly-doo-duet with the Dean in the dunk-tank-a-rooney or something! I cannot get mostly naked with that man and sit close enough for him to paw me all night. Have you met the Dean? He has touchy-feely hands when it comes to me."

Nearly-naked Jeff.

Wet, nearly-naked Jeff.

Naked Jeff.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no! This was completely the wrong place and time to be thinking of Jeff, nakedness, and pawing.

Her usual fallbacks for when these situations arose weren't available to her just now; she couldn't talk to Shirley or any other member of the group as a distraction, she couldn't study, and she couldn't run away. But she wanted to, just like Jeff. Just like a six-year-old kid. Run until his breath wasn't ghosting across her lips. Until his hands weren't gripping her tight. Until the tiny, cramped space wasn't giving her naughty ideas about what they _could_ be doing, but which she wasn't ready to do again yet.

Maybe.

He shifted a little. "Annie?"

Realizing she'd gone quiet for a little too long, she knocked his arms from her, breathing a lot easier once she took a step back. "Coward."

"Uh, yeah, Annie. He has Speedos. Matching Greendale flag Speedos! And, yes, the anus is right where you'd expect it to be. What next, mandatory Greendale sleepovers? Where does it stop, Annie? Where... does it stop? He's this close--you can't see it but I'm holding my thumb and finger close together--to stalking me."

Annie gasped. "Jeff! That's horrible."

"I know," he agreed, sounding satisfied. Still too close to her. "He's--"

" _You're_ a horrible person," she stressed, shoving past him to the door.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Wait, what?"

"The Dean isn't a psycho. He just... has a crush on you. And, he seems to be working through some stuff. Maybe he's just, I don't know, confused or something, seeing things that aren't there."

"What?" Jeff repeated in a louder voice shot through with a scoff.

Pushing her issues, and the Dean's, to the backburner, she grabbed for the doorknob again. "I'm late for class."

Jeff moved in front of her and braced his hip against the door. Her hand grabbed him instead of the knob and--

Oh, god.

Panic settled in her and a teeny, tiny thrill of-- no. No thrills.

Jerking her hand back--not lingering at all--from certain parts of him, she felt her face flame.

Thank god for the dark, because she didn't think she could face him just now. Was it just her? Was he... had he? Did he, too? Mental rambling. Oh, god.

Silence fell, awkward and punctuated only by their breathing.

He shifted again after an interminable amount of time in which she was able to recite the million different reasons they couldn't get involved. And the million and one reasons she wanted to.

Closing her eyes for a second, she was startled to feel his hand settle on her neck. It brushed her hair from her shoulder.

A fluke! Nothing more. Right? He didn't know what he was touching, just like she hadn't known she was grabbing... him.

His other hand settled on the other side of her face, cupping her cheek. A shiver went down her spine and a gymnast began to tumble in her stomach. "Jeff," she whispered, though all that came out was a heavy breath. She wanted to warn him. To stop him.

They couldn't.

His breath was closer. All of him was closer.

They really shouldn't.

Had he breathed her name or was it just her imagination?

They were going to. Again.

Bright, fluorescent light flooded the cramped supply closet as the door flew open.

"Jeffrey! There you are-- oh, and Annie. I didn't see you there." The Dean stood framed flamboyantly in the doorway, one hand on his hip, eyes only for Jeff. "Oh, my. What have we been up to? Janitor's closets aren't 'make out' rooms, okay? I'm very disappointed in you two." He waved his finger between them.

Annie blinked back the light, jerking out of Jeff's arms. He'd been just as close as she'd thought. Students filed past, casting curious looks and knowing smirks their way. Her eyes resisted the urge to slide to Jeff's again. No good would come of it.

The Dean didn't notice. "A broom closet, Jeffrey? Now, is that any way to treat a young--and might I add, very young--lady?"

Annie ducked her head and hurried past the Dean. "I'm late for class."

Her heartbeat was thumping so loudly in her chest just from the closeness of Jeff. All the hard work she'd put into ignoring him and trying not to be attracted to him, was gone in a split second of nearness. The smell of him. The feel of his hands. His breath on her face.

Casting a longing glance toward her classroom, she detoured into a bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Her control might be shot, but she was Annie Edison. It'd be back in no time.


	2. Chapter 2

Jeff stomped down the sidewalk and through the grass, each stride bringing him closer to his prey. She was smiling and talking and flirting with a line of men.

"Annie," he growled, satisfied grin curving up his lips as he headed toward her.

Pushing past the men--and two women? How very progressive of Annie--he ignored all the 'heys' the 'you can't cut, douchebags' and the 'wait your turns' that they threw at him. Scoffing, he came to a halt in front of a startled Annie.

"Well, Annie, I hope you're happy."

She gaped at him, darting a concerned look behind him at all the men she'd been flirting with. Batting her eyes at. Giggling with.

Psh. Like that'd work. Tight shirts and short skirts. College boys were path--his eyes dropped to her chest briefly--etic.

"Jeff, what are you doing here? You can't just--"

"Oh, I just did, baby." Okay, he could've left off the 'baby' since it didn't really have anything to do with this. "And, again, I hope you're really happy."

"Well, I was, relatively so, before you got here." She leaned forward, whispering harshly. "What are you doing? I'm busy!"

"Fine." He dug in his pocket, then stuffed a bill in the jar between them. "Underneath this designer sweat suit, I am wearing nothing but Speedos. Speedos, Annie." He saw her eyes dart down as if she could see through his clothes and dismissed the pleasure and satisfaction he got from her interest. It'd happen with any woman. Britta. Sh... Shirley. She did like his backside after all. Shaking those thoughts off, he leaned down, getting in Annie's face. "And, yes, they really do have the school flag on them."

Her whole face went from soft and interested to tight and a little grossed out. "Ew. Wait, what-- are you blaming _me_? I didn't... it's not my fault the dean found you."

"You didn't run fast enough." It was simple and logical, no lawyering necessary. The slowest person between the two of them had led the dean right to the closet they'd hidden in, therefore, she was guilty.

"What-- I-- oh, come on! You dragged me with you without telling me what or why or where we were going. Of course I was slow." She straightened up, folding her arms across her chest.

Eyes up top, Winger.

"Why did you even take me with you? If you were so worried about getting caught, knowing I'd slow you down, why didn't you just run away like a little baby on your own?"

Good question. One he'd been hoping she'd overlook. He hadn't thought ahead, he'd just panicked when he saw the dean. Panicked and run. She'd been with him at the time, just striking up a conversation about... something, and he'd grabbed her hand and run. "That's not even-- you," he dragged out, pointing at her, "you were slow, which got us caught, and now I'm about to perch on a small wooden seat meant for one. With a nearly-naked dean." He shuddered. "Touching me all afternoon."

"Oh, get over it, Winger."

"Really, Annie? Think back to all the times the dean's come to make an announcement." He waited. "Now put yourself in my place."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, then suddenly shuddered and his eyes went traveling again. She leaned forward, biting her lip in sympathy. "He is kind of... forward. But still, you shouldn't--"

"Kiss her!"

Jeff raised his eyebrows and turned to look at the people behind him in a semblance of disbelief. "Really?"

"Come on! Kiss her already!"

A few others joined in and Jeff scoffed at them in irritation. "Why is it that I can't be near a girl without people thinking we're involved? We're just friends, guys. Give it a rest." Rolling his eyes Annie's way, he saw her brows rise and her mouth twist to the side as if she were biting her tongue.

"Dude, it's a kissing booth! Kiss her and get the hell out of the way already!"

"Yeah!"

"Make room for others. We have money, too."

"I've got five kisses coming."

"Hurry up!"

"Move!"

More people joined in and then someone started booing.

Kissing booth. Right.

Flushing a little, he turned back to Annie, who was waiting to see what he'd do. She'd been pretty good about letting him dictate their relationship since the kiss the night of Britta's and Slater's dueling-declarations. She didn't look excited or expectant, which took the pressure off of him completely. But it also pissed him off.

What the hell?

Mentally shaking himself, he told his mind and body that nothing good would come of thinking thoughts like that about Annie. It was territory they couldn't/shouldn't/wouldn't cross. But he was still staring at her, still too close to her. Still uncomfortably aware that his palms were damp and there was a somersaulting feeling in his stomach and a tightness in his chest.

Her eyes fell to his mouth, brow knitting together briefly. He could. They had an excuse this time. Kissing booth. And he'd paid his money. What better excuse to kiss someone than--

Something hit him in the back of the head. He glanced down at the banana peel and turned to the people behind him. "Seriously, guys?"

A few shrugged, some laughed. Garret snickered, smacking his single dollar bills into his other hand as if he was finally getting something, and he wanted Jeff to know it.

Whatever.

Mood officially spoiled, he pointed at Annie as he stepped out of line. "Your fault. Whatever happens tonight; I blame you." Turning, one might say, melodramatically, Jeff marched off to his doom. The dunk tank and the dean were waiting.

A shudder left him for his and Annie's sakes. But she deserved it; she deserved Garret. Piles of lined up men and a few women were waiting with their dollar bills and their overly-glossed lips, but he had to sit beside the dean all evening listening to his oh-so-subtle innuendo. And fall into the tank with him. The dean had better not get grabby.

Across from Annie's booth, he spotted Britta. Apparently, she had her own booth and she was shaking her money jar. "Donation Booth! Donate money to the school because you want to, not because a pretty young girl is being thrust at you to entice you into--"

"You suck," someone yelled.

Smirking at the three coins rattling in Britta's jar, Jeff glanced back over his shoulder at Annie's jar, which was stuffed full of bills, including his own ten.

His amusement left him faster than Troy dropping a girly scream.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Title:** 5 Clichés That Didn't Lead To A Kiss and 1 That Did (3/6)  
>  **Character/Pairing:** Jeff/Annie  
>  **Rating:** PG-13 or so  
>  **Genre:** Romance, humor, general  
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own Community and I make no money from it. (save the show!)  
>  **A/N:** Sorry for the delay. I had to rework some things. This is my first trip into writing/posting people other than Jeff or Annie. I just hope I got them somewhat in character. Then again, I'm still struggling with writing Jeff, which is driving me insane, because I've never had this problem before. :(

"It's chicken soup," Shirley told the room, though only Britta, Annie, and Abed were there with her. "I'm going to take it to Jeff during lunch." She grinned, pleased with herself, and patted the container lid like the top of a child's head.

Annie let her shoulders droop the slightest bit, unfounded guilt swimming through her.

"That was a freaky storm, right?" Britta said, eyes on her hands as she knitted... something. Annie didn't know what the heck it was, but it was red and blue and looked like a little Spider-Man outfit. For her cat?

"It was like the wrath of god come down to Greendale," Shirley added with a fierce nod. "I thought for a minute there'd be a plague of locusts."

"It _was_ weird," Abed agreed and Annie glanced at him.

He was watching her. Why was he watching her? His head was tilted, watching her and-- no. Observing her.

That was scary, no matter how she looked at it, because observant-Abed _knew_ things. Things other people didn't know, or realize, or want to know because then things would come up and get in the way of perfectly good friendships and feelings might pop up, making themselves known, even though she'd tamped them down tight and-- and--

Abed was still watching her.

"Can you believe Mr. 'I am so virile, I impregnate women with a single look from ten miles away' got sick?" Britta held her little outfit thing on the tabletop and smoothed it out, examining a few stitches. She looked as bored as the rest of them without... certain people there.

"You know, I think he's just going by Jeff now. And, why did you say that in your robot voice?"

Britta looked up quickly. "I don't _know_." She sank lower in her chair, avoiding looking at any of them.

Ignoring the obvious analysis, Annie tried not to look at Abed, but she was unable to look completely away. Her eyelashes fluttered to her cheeks, eyes watching him underneath them. "And he's human just like the rest of us," she told Britta, feeling a twinge of guilt resurfacing.

Why did she feel guilty? It wasn't her fault he'd had to go in the dunk tank with the dean. He could've just said no.

Britta picked up her ridiculously long needles and began moving them quickly again. "Sure, if the rest of us were ten feet tall."

Annie smiled the tiniest bit. Jeff _was_ tall.

"And as handsome as the devil," Shirley added, ignoring her open study book in front of her.

Annie's smile grew, but then dropped away when she saw Abed's interest deepen.

Oh, no.

Abed's knowledge was dangerous. She couldn't let him know... anything. Feelings. Friendship! Danger, Will Robinson, danger!

Rolling her eyes at herself, she vowed to stop spending so much time watching old TV shows with Troy and Abed. She shifted in her seat, pretending nothing was wrong and that Abed wasn't freaking her out. He didn't know anything.

All he knew was that Jeff was sick and blamed Annie for being that way.

A sudden windstorm had risen after an hour of dunking--all by the basketball team members--taking everyone by surprise. Annie'd just been about to close her booth for a break--and not at all to go take a peek at Jeff in his Speedos--when it hit; she'd lost her booth. Britta's money had all blown away.

Jeff and the dean got sick.

And Annie hadn't gotten to see Jeff in a Speedo, which was a much bigger crime than her supposed guilt.

Now, on top of all that guilt about him getting sick, there was the fear of someone knowing she had a teeny, tiny sliver of feelings for Jeff. Miniscule, really.

Still watching her.

Damn it, Abed!

"This is nice of you, Shirley." She nodded at the Tupperware container between them, trying to draw Abed's attention away from her. "Taking Jeff some soup, I mean."

"Yeah, that's sweet. You know he'll probably just throw it in the trash, don't you? You know him and carbs." Britta was so wrapped up in her knitting that she didn't see the looks Annie and Shirley sent her.

"I'm sure Jeff'll love it," Annie stressed before smiling at Shirley.

Shirley's phone rang and Annie returned her attention back to her book as Shirley dug through the purse on her lap. But her eyes wouldn't focus on the pages. What was she even studying?

Shirley answered her phone in her usual sweet voice. "Helloooo?"

The words swam before Annie's eyes, blurring as her mind began to wander. Was Jeff all right? Did he have a fever? Was he in dire need of Shirley's soup? He was probably cool even with a cold, lounging around in red, silk pajamas complete with a handkerchief in the pocket. He'd smell of lemons and honey and tea. There'd be a sexy flush to his skin, but not too heated, and--

Shaking herself, she forced her attention back to the book on the table in front of her, feeling the crisp, cool pages. Paper and ink. A return to sanity.

Her eyes wandered to Jeff's chair, and she felt an odd sense of emptiness. It'd only been three days. She'd gone months without seeing him after their kiss at the Tranny Dance, surely she could go a weekend and a school day.

Slamming her book shut, she sighed. She missed Jeff, but she missed the rest of the group too. Not just him. He was a jerk anyway. He'd stalked over to her after getting out of the tank, shivering, trying very hard not to look like he was. His eyes had glowed with a storm that rivaled the freak wind as he glared at her. Wrapped up in a blue Snuggie.

"Your. Fault."

Like she'd made the storm happen.

He was a jerk. She had nothing to feel guilty about. He shouldn't have dragged her with him, that was all.

Three days without him? She could do three months.

...okay, maybe three weeks, because she liked the way he smiled, and the way he smelled, and the way he smirked. And. And. And.

Glancing around the table, she noticed how sad their little group was.

Troy was in class, Jeff was home sick, Pierce had mumbled something about a new student in her 60s... or from the 60s? And the rest of them were listless and uninspired. They hadn't even tried studying, and good, god, if Abed didn't stop watching her she'd scream.

She straightened in her seat, smoothing her hair down.

It was silly to get so worked up about Abed and his crazy, crazy knowledge of all things everyone.

"All right, baby. Mama will be there soon." Shirley hung up and started gathering her books. "Elijah got into a fight at school. I have to go pick him up. And beat his behind." She grabbed the soup and went still. "Oh, no. Jeffrey's soup. I can't take it to him now." Her eyes fell on Britta, who was fighting with the red yarn. Or maybe that was how one knitted? Abed blinked at her, briefly taking his attention off of Annie, though Annie didn't feel any less under observation.

"Annie should do it," Abed told Shirley.

Annie gasped under her breath--he didn't know!--and tried to make a quick exit. "I should--"

But Shirley's guilt was fast and far-reaching. "Annie? If you'd be so kind as to take Jeffrey this soup I made him, I'd be very grateful." Her voice was so sweet. So pleading. So thick with guilt aimed at Annie. "He's sick. He needs lots of hot liquids and vitamins."

"Uh, Shirley, I'd... love to--"

"Oh, thank you, Annie!" Shirley clapped happily and grinned, then pushed the soup toward Annie.

"I'd _like_ to," Annie started again, stressing the words. "But I really need to study."

Shirley's smile fell like a lead ball from a rooftop. "Now, I know you're not saying studying's more important than a sick friend. Especially after you made him sick."

Annie gasped loudly. "Why does everyone keep blaming me? I didn't do anything! And he could've said _no_." Seeing it was a lost cause because Shirley was already on to other things, she pouted and muttered a quick, "Fine." Shoving her book into her bag, she glanced at the sloshing container then grabbed it. "Fine. I'll take Jeff your soup and I'll probably get sick, but that's okay, because, apparently, I'm a horrible, terrible person for letting Jeff drag me along so he could get caught or whatever."

"Thank you," Shirley cooed with satisfaction.

Annie stared after her with a loud scoff then turned her glare to Abed.

"This is interesting," Abed muttered to himself as Troy walked in, singing and spinning.

"Butt soup in the what-what. Gonna make it in the butt-butt."

Fearing what Abed found so interesting, Annie sighed and left Abed alone with his deep thoughts. And Britta and Troy.

 

****

 

Annie did a last minute check of her skirt and blouse before raising her hand to knock on Jeff's door. Why she bothered, she didn't know, but... well, she did it anyway.

Hardly a second went by before the door was jerked open.

No red, silk pajamas with gray piping and a white handkerchief in the pocket; Jeff looked horrible. He had actual bed-hair, not just the artful kind. His clothes looked hastily put together and thrown on... after having sat in a corner on the floor of his closet for two months. His skin was pasty and damp and flushed with fever, but not in a sexy way. It just made her feel hot and uncomfortable.

It was with some relief that she said, "Oh, Jeff. You look terrible."

"Gee, thanks, Annie." He fell into a coughing fit, making her wince in sympathy. Her throat hurt with each wracking cough. Once he'd regained his breath and his control, he straightened up, trying to look healthy, which came off about as well as a drunk trying to look sober. "I told Shirley not to--" He coughed again, but quickly regained control. "I was just on my way to class."

Disbelief coursed through her; he looked like a tree ready to topple over. "No, you're not." Holding Shirley's soup up between them, she grinned, trying to ignore the fact that his voice, while always a little sexy, was now really sexy. And that was the only concession she'd allow.

Thank god Abed wasn't there to observe her some more.

"I brought soup! Shirley made it, but she had to go get Elijah because he got into a fight at school and Britta was knitting something really weird--I think it's a Halloween costume for her cat--and Abed was... well, we don't want to talk about that. So, I was nominated to bring this to you."

She grinned wider when he merely blinked at her, swaying in place like a breeze had cropped up in the forest.

"And, now, I have. So."

Holding it out to him, she waited. And waited. A few seconds later, he grabbed it and held it to his chest. Slow responses.

Her inner mother hen took over and banished the awkwardness and annoyance. "Seriously, Jeff. You don't look well. You should go to bed."

He straightened again, but still looked hunched as his eyes narrowed on her. "Please. I'm not that sick. I'm as healthy as a very hearty equine. I'll be fine. Let's get to class."

Annie tilted her head to the side, stepping into the apartment with a quick glance around; tasteful and clean, not at all unpleasant. She'd half expected leopard print rugs before a huge fireplace and used condom wrappers littering the tables. "Jeff, you're sick, it's okay to be wea--"

His eyes narrowed on her again.

"I wasn't going to say weak. I was going to say... it's okay to be... less hearty than usual. It's not a big deal. Everyone gets sick, it's sort of a fact of life." He looked like he wanted to argue, but she didn't think he had the energy.

He was leaning against the door, trying to look like he wasn't, but she saw his hands shake, saw how weak he was and took the soup from him before he dropped it.

"You wouldn't make it through the afternoon," she said baldly, hoping to talk some kind of sense into him.

"Annie, maybe the rest of the world gets sick, but I don't. I never once called in sick at work and I'm not about to do it at Greendale of all places."

Rolling her eyes, she smiled encouragingly. "Look at it like a teeny, tiny little vacation. A chance to goof off. You like goofing off. No homework, no studying... although, I did bring your assignment for Anthropology. It's another diorama--shocker--about--"

Jeff huffed and slammed the door shut, grabbing her arm. "I'll show you weak." He leaned down toward her, mouth too close for her comfort by the time she realized what he was doing.

She jumped back, slapping him on the chest. "Ew, Jeff. Gross! You're-- you're sweaty and trembling and feverish and about to fall on your butt. Stop trying to be macho and just rest."

Was it really, really sick and horrible of her that, despite the fact that he was sick and she could feel the heat pouring off of him in waves, despite his clammy-looking skin and bloodshot eyes... she still wanted him to kiss her? It _was_ horrible. She was a horrible person. But she wanted to feel his lips again. Feel his skin brush against hers. And feel his hand in her hair as he hauled her body to his.

The night of the Tranny Dance was firmly stuck in her mind for so many good, and bad, reasons. But the greatest one was that, after she'd kissed him briefly, experimentally, he'd not only kissed her back, but he'd kissed her fully, hauling her to him with a sound she'd never hear before or since. And she wanted to.

But only from Jeff.

Just not now, not like this. So, she ignored his attempt at proving his virility and strength. She pretended it hadn't happened. Because, if she didn't, she'd say or do something she'd regret.

Jeff scoffed and moved past her, toward the door. "Whatever."

Shaking her head, relieved that he didn't seem to feel the same awkwardness from his attempted kiss as she did, Annie headed into the kitchen with his soup. "It's Monday Jeff, your last class of the day ended eight minutes ago."

He groaned loudly and shuffled to the couch before dropping onto it with a pathetic whimper. If only he could keep this up forever, then she might be able to fight off her attraction to him for good.

"Your. Fault."

Annie sighed during her search for a pot. "You could've said no."

Jeff's head dropped to the back of the couch.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own Community and I make no money from it. (save the show!)  
>  **A/N:** Sorry for the delay again. The last three chapters are written--well, the last chapter is a bit raw and still needs a few lines here and there--but for the most part, they're done. The delays are me tweaking and fine-tuning.

Jeff was due back at school any day now and Annie was looking forward to that more than she should be. Probably.

Right?

Ugh.

His original complaints about being awesome and virile enough to overcome any stupid virus that thought it was going to bring _him_ down had fallen by the wayside once he realized the potential of having them wait on him hand and foot. Or, in Pierce's case, sending someone in place of him.

Every day one of the group went to Jeff's place with food, tissues, or medicine. Every day they fled back to school with barely concealed relief.

Jeff had learned very quickly to milk their visits for all they were worth.

That first day Annie went over with Shirley's soup, she'd ended up catering to his every whim until she'd rushed out the door with a quick apology that she hadn't really meant.

Really, she could only take so many requests for one extra cracker, another napkin, a cold glass of water, or medicine from his kitchen cabinet, before snapping at him.

There was a confusing whiny/clingy thing going on with him that made her want to take care of him, but also made her want to... not.

One weekend and four days without him at school seemed like adequate enough time to put things into perspective for her.

And yet.

She was still as confused as ever, and time was running out.

Britta had told them all this morning, among softly clicking needles, that Jeff was back to fighting shape, though he'd coughed a lot and pretended not to be able to get the remote as he sat under his Superman Snuggie during her last visit.

Her lips curved up at the memory of him under the Snuggie; a gift from Troy.

But the smile fell again. He'd be back soon and she'd have to face her attraction to him while being faced with the actual man, not just his memory and the fantasies she held at night.

Heading through the halls, she tried to force her mind onto something other than Jeff, but the simple truth was that he'd almost kissed her three times recently and that was... confusing, even though the last one was just an attempt to show how healthy he was. He'd told her after the Tranny dance that the kiss had been a mistake, a spur of the moment, heat of passion kind of thing. That they should remain friends and forget it ever happened.

And she eventually had.

Until she saw him again that first day back. And every day after.

But, apparently, she was too young, so, she'd pushed it all to the back of her mind. Now, if he would just stop almost-kissing her, she might be able to keep it that way.

Pushing past a group of girls and their intense discussion about boxers vs. briefs, she rounded a corner and leaned against the wall. Jeff confused her. To be fair, she was pretty sure he was confusing himself as well. One minute, he was distant, yet supportive. The next, he was trying to kiss her and--

It hurt. It made her feel like he thought he could treat her any way he wanted so long as it was what _he_ wanted. Did he care at all that she'd been fighting her attraction to him for months? That she'd cried over him? That each and every woman he bragged about sleeping with hurt her just a little?

She hated this, feeling this way.

Life was beginning to suck. A lot.

Students rushed past her, heading this way and that, going about their equally troubled lives. Really, she had no excuse to sulk about a man kissing her or not kissing her when they were probably dealing with drugs or death or damaged cars.

Pushing away from the wall, she heard a girl down the hall scream. Then another. People began jumping to the side, out of the way of something. Annie was about to do so as well when she heard a motor. A moped?!

Too late!

The driver--Mike, in his sleeveless hoodie and fingerless gloves--saw her and tried to swerve, but there were too many people crowding around him. "Get out of the way," he shouted to her, waving his arm, which only made the moped wobble more, and then he lost control of it.

She couldn't move in time.

Something knocked into Annie, sending her flying out of the way of the bike. She landed on her back on the floor, feeling someone heavy land on top of her, pressing her harder onto her book-filled backpack.

The moped continued out of the building, leaving behind moans and groans and angry shouts.

Pain radiated along her lower back. "Oww." But it was better than being run over. Wasn't it? Probably. "Ow." Head pounding--had she hit it?--she looked up at her rescuer, half convinced of his identity just from his smell and the feel of his body.

She was right.

Jeff's voice rang out from somewhere above her. "What the hell, Chang? Get off of her." He grabbed Chang's backpack and dragged him from where he'd been splayed on top of her, ostensibly to protect her.

"I was saving your woman, Winger. Mission accomplished. You're welcome."

"The only mission you accomplished was get the hell out of here." Jeff knelt down, hand reaching out to almost touch her forehead. "Geez, Annie, I leave you guys alone for a few days and look what happens. Are you okay?"

"Not really," she said, voice raised in pain, trying not to notice that his voice still sounded sexy.

Not fair. And not all right.

There was nothing about her that was all right just then. Pain and hurt and Jeff, not all of it done by the near-miss. She tried to sit up, to get into a more comfortable position, but when she moved, her back complained. "Ow." She stared at the ceiling, trying to take stock of her injuries. She reached down to brush off her legs and-- "Oh, god. I can't feel my legs!"

Jeff's eyes widened and he shifted, falling on her a little.

She drew in a sharp breath, realizing her hand was on his leg and his was... "Never mind. False alarm. Yeah, I can-- I can feel that, Jeff."

His hand jerked back from between her thighs. "Sorry." His lips curved up as he gave a small shrug. "Not at all awkward." But then his smile slipped away and his eyes darted to hers. "You know it was an accident, right?"

Nodding with a small sigh attached to it, she grabbed her back, where the pain was worst. Her fingers felt sticky. Lifting them, she stared at the red covering her palm and fingers. "Jeff." Her voice shook and she had trouble holding the fear in.

"Chang," Jeff called, "make yourself useful and get the nurse."

Chang hovered for a few seconds more, hands braced on his backpack straps before running off down the hall. "Can do, Winger. Make way! Out of my way! Make room... emergency... wooo-wooo-wooo!"

Jeff's hand dropped to her waist, gently touching her before trying to shift her in order to see where the blood was coming from. And he looked slightly worried now, which only fueled her own fears. "You're fine. It's just a little scratch. You'll be up and at 'em in no time, kiddo."

Annie rolled her eyes, seeing blurry students standing around them. "Really, Jeff?" Sharp pain sliced through her back again. "Oh, no. My Sharp Instruments of Man diorama!"

"I'll finish it," Jeff promised, brushing her words away as he pulled a tissue from his pocket and dabbed gently at her forehead. "You're bleeding," he explained, moving her hand aside when she reached up curiously to where he was touching her.

She really hoped it wasn't a used tissue.

"Just relax. Take a break." His eyes flickered down to hers as a small smile lifted his lips. "Look at it like a teeny, tiny little vacation. A chance to goof off."

She smiled softly, recognizing the words, and realizing he'd returned. "You're back."

"Fit as a fiddle that's only been slightly abused." Worry was still visible around the corners of his eyes, which scared her, because Jeff wasn't an emotional broadcaster.

She tried to move, but it only hurt worse. "Kind of hard to relax when my diorama props are stabbing me in the back."

His hand gingerly prodded her side. "Only you would attempt Death By Schoolwork."

"Ow. Don't make me laugh. I really think the switchblade might've pierced my kidney."

"I can't see a thing." He looked intently up and down the hall. "What's taking so long?" It was sweet that he was concerned about her, but she didn't fool herself into thinking it meant anything other than friendship. Which was good, because that's what they were now; friends.

And would always be.

She winced, sucking in another sharp breath. Tears pricked her eyes. As much as she was joking about it, there really was a lot of pain and she was sure at least one of the sharp instruments from the diorama had pierced her flesh. It was uncomfortable on the ground though, so she forced her arms to lift her into a sitting position.

A groan left her, but the pain lessened a little.

Jeff grabbed her arms and helped her settle against the wall. She scooted up with a wince, closing her eyes as pain shot through her. Blood trickled down her back.

As she blinked the tears back, she felt Jeff's hand on her cheek. "Hey. You're gonna be fine."

Not daring to breathe for fear that it would disappear--it felt so warm and comforting--she opened her eyes slowly.

His other hand brushed her hair from her cheek. His face swam before her eyes. Close. So close to hers. "Hang in there," he said softly.

Don't call me kiddo, she silently begged, as his eyes found hers. They softened in a way she so rarely saw, but treasured every time. Something in her melted and she was momentarily numb, feeling no pain. She leaned forward the slightest bit, anticipating warm, familiar lips on hers despite her mental insistency that they were just friends. A second passed, and then another. She could feel his breath on her face.

"Oh, no, you two go ahead and make out. I'll just wait to check for spinal damage and pierced lungs later."

A shadow fell over them.

Annie glanced up to see Nurse Jackie standing above them in a shaft of sunlight from the windows.

"Take your time," he muttered.

Jeff jerked back and then got to his feet. Annie's heart, which had tripled from their near-kiss, sank as she saw him close his eyes, clearly angry with himself for almost kissing her again.

He didn't want to want her.

"Where does it hurt?" Nurse Jackie asked, kneeling beside her.

"Everywhere," she whispered, turning her head away from Jeff.


	5. Chapter 5

"Jeff! Thanks for coming over. I didn't know I'd have a family thing to take care of when I got her drunk."

"You're such a bad influence on these kids," Jeff chuckled, slipping into Annie's apartment as Britta grabbed her keys. "I'd ask how she is but I heard her yelling something about nipple rings and all-you-can-eat edible panties when I got here."

Britta snickered and glanced back to where Annie was kneeling on her bed in front of the open window. "Apparently there are a lot of announcements throughout the nights and she's doing her best Frank Sinatra."

"Spreading the news?"

"Yup. She's not feeling any pain, though, so, that's good. At least until she wakes up with a hangover the size of Canada." She glanced at her watch. "Crud. I really have to go. Are you--" she twisted her lips up in a grimace, tossing her gaze to Annie, "--gonna be okay?"

"Uh, yeah." He removed his eyes from the skin exposed between Annie's white tank top and the flannel pajama bottoms she wore; the part that wasn't covered in white gauze. "Why would you even ask that?"

"Oh, please. Mr. And Mrs. Googly-eyes. You're... ya know."

He straightened from the wall he'd leaned on. "No," he scoffed. "I don't know. And we're not anything. We're just friends. I have no plans to ravage her tonight or any other night. Besides, she has stitches and bruises and she was stabbed by a lemon zester."

"Whatever. Live in denial land. My brother's going to kill me if I'm not there, like, five minutes ago." She paused, stared hard at him as if she wanted to say something more, then shook her head and left the little purple and pink apartment.

Of course it was purple.

If he'd entertained any ideas about getting close to Annie while he was here--which he hadn't--the pink, purple, and pastel ribbons and flowers and--oh, god, sparkly butterflies--sure as hell changed his mind. She couldn't be more of a child in here.

"Free dildos for everyone!" she yelled out the window through her cupped hands. Giggling when someone on the street yelled back that he'd give her what she needed if the dildo wasn't helping, she geared up for another hearty shout. Orange neon light spilled over her bed and her figure as she leaned on the window.

"Hey," he called out, crossing over to her. "You're gonna fall out the window."

She turned toward him in surprise, swaying on her knees. "Jeff!" she called as if she was Cheers greeting Norm. Her grin was bright, stunning, and a little sloppy. "When'd you get here? And where's Britta? Britta. Brrr... itta. Brit-- her name sounds stupid."

So very drunk.

"She had to go be a family person. Uh, be careful." He stood beside her bed, not quite sure what to do with himself. It was all so close and intimate, being in her bedroom, which was pretty much her entire apartment, but, still. Awkward. "If you fall out the window, I'm not scraping you up."

"Psh!" She smacked her flattened hand on the screen a few times, bouncing it. "There's a screen, duh."

"Kids fall through those all the time, and you're no kid." He wanted to take the words back as soon as they left his mouth. He shifted a little away from her and the bed and her big, blue eyes, which were focused on him.

"Oh," she snorted, dropping to the bed with a bounce. Everything on her bounced.

Eyes up, Winger.

"Could've fooled me. 'You're too young, Annie. You're just a kid, Annie. You're too little to--' okay, that last one might've been my dad."

Mood effectively ruined.

"That's a discussion for a time when you can see fewer than three of me."

She blinked at him. "There are only two of you. And can you believe I was--" she cleared her throat, declaring dramatically, "cut by my own dio _rama_!" A giggle left her, interrupted by a snort.

"Channeling Britta circa the beginning of the year, lovely. Certainly one of my most favorite times of all."

"Brrritt-- Brit-- her name is really stupid. And she thought it was funny."

"And that should tell you something."

Annie sat up, shoving her hair out of her face. "I'm gonna name my first kid PUR. Or, or Culligan. Or Sink."

A snicker left him. "Okay, Annie, you're very pleasantly drunk right now. But pretty soon you're going to start to feel like crap. So, why don't you get some sleep while you still feel good?" If she slept, he could work on feeling more like himself and less like a perverted peeping Tom hoping to catch a glimpse of more than just her back and arms and shoulders and... really she wasn't covered up a whole lot.

He was just a pervert.

A pervert who'd already told himself several dozen times over the past 24 hours that he would not take advantage of Annie again. Not one more time. He wouldn't try to kiss her, wouldn't hug her, and wouldn't confuse the hell out of himself and her by not sticking to his own rules.

He'd almost kissed her just to prove he was healthy when he was as sick as a dog. Who did that?

And when he'd seen her lying on the ground, bleeding, looking vulnerable and hurt, and in need of comfort, what had he done? Gone in for a kiss. Again.

How was that comforting?

"M'not tired. I itch." She squirmed around, trying to scratch her back under the bandages and tape, but couldn't quite do it. "And there are bars on the window anyway."

"Ignoring the bit of information adding to a conversation we're no longer having, don't scratch at it." Feeling the exact opposite of attracted to her at that moment--at least, that's what he told himself--he sat beside her and took her hands in his, holding them down. "You'll open your stitches and bleed all over my--"

"Designer blah-blah-blah, yeah." Jerking her hands free, she slumped on the bed, falling against his arm. "Alcohol is amazing. I feel... amaaaaaaaaaazing. Forget drugs. This," she told him, looking up at him from near his shoulder, "this is the good stuff. No pain. No hurt. No feelings except happy ones. No sadness like on Troy's birthday." She sighed and the happiness suddenly deflated. "Except, now there's sadness."

"Hey." He really hoped she wasn't going to turn into a maudlin drunk. "What's to be sad about? You're with an awesome person in your... very purple apartment, which happens to have a poster of a butterfly and some dude who looks like a chick, and you're drunk off your ass." His hand had a life of its own because it was suddenly cupping her cheek and his thumb was stroking her chin, rubbing lightly on her lower lip. Her eyes fluttered shut and she breathed in deeply, contentment bright on her face for a moment before it, too, was gone.

"You make me sad, Jeff Winger. And I hate being sad. I just wanna be happy again." She pulled her legs up and settled against his side. "When can I be happy again?"

Jeff wasn't the type of man whose heart bled for others; he was a lawyer. Despite two years at Greendale--the people, his friends, all of it--despite those things, he was still just Jeff Winger. He made women cry.

So, when his heart started to hurt for Annie, it--

He hung his head.

\--didn't surprise him. These people were killing him.

Pressing his cheek against the top of her head, he inhaled deeply, smelling Annie and freshness. His arm curled loosely around her back, not wanting to hurt her and not wanting her to notice the comforting touch. "I'm sorry, Annie. I don't mean to hurt you." This was why he'd decided they were better off as friends. He didn't have many friends, and he wanted to keep the ones he did have.

Women were a dime a dozen for him. Friends were golden.

Scoffing, he stared at the wall across from the bed, burning the purple paint into his mind to keep from sliding down that slope that was looking more and more inviting. Her apartment actually sparkled. It put things into perspective in a way that simple decisions couldn't. Telling himself she was too young wasn't a deterrent for long. Seeing her frilly things and the innocence of those things was.

"Jeff?"

He blinked down at her. "Yeah?"

Her big blue eyes were bright on him. She raised a hand and touched his cheek, sending all of his denials and protestations and excuses out the window. Women didn't touch him tenderly. They didn't stare into his eyes. It was always about sex, never about sweet touches or caresses that made his stomach tighten in a completely wussy way.

"I think I really like you," she whispered and he found his eyes focusing on her lips.

Found himself leaning toward her.

Jerking back, he dropped his arm from her back.

Good, god, could he _not_ kiss her just once? Just one time? Why did he keep allowing himself to take that step forward, to get into her personal space and allow her into his? He shouldn't even want that, let alone allow it.

But it was never about liking.

In his recent Greendale history, he'd had one girlfriend, and that'd ended badly. He'd had Britta, and though they'd stopped sleeping together, that'd been as close to being in a relationship as he'd come since Michelle. He didn't love either of them, because he was pretty sure he was incapable of that, but there was something to be said about liking and respecting the woman he was having sex with.

But with Annie, he sensed there could be more to it than that and it scared the hell out of him.

Having sex _with_ tenderness mixed in... actually sounded like a good thing. It sounded pretty awesome.

And that was dangerous, because Annie was 20 and he was 33, and there just wasn't a happy ending for them.

She slumped against him and he realized she'd fallen asleep. Catching her before she fell off the bed, he picked her up, trying to think of anything other than the fact that he was holding Annie in his arms and carrying her to bed. Think of Chang. Chang in a Speedo. Chang in a Speedo with the anus flag on it.

He shuddered and stooped to lay her down.

She blinked up at him. Lying on her side, still watching him, she smiled such an innocent smile that he felt ashamed for having ever entertained dirty thoughts about her.

His lips curved up in response and words left his mouth without thought, without intention. "I like you, too."

She closed her eyes and settled more comfortably on the pillows. "I know. 'night, Jeff."

It was true, he realized.

He liked Annie Edison. He liked talking to her; arguing, laughing, spending time together. Just... being with her. Though he wanted her so badly sometimes that he was forced to leave the study group last, he wanted more than that. He liked her more than that. A comfortable silence between them beat two hours of conversation with almost anyone else.

If he were truthful with himself--and he usually was, except when it came to Annie--he not only wanted to touch her, hold her, kiss her, and make love to her, but also talk to her and sit companionably beside her. And he wanted the ability to touch her whenever he felt like it. To brush back the strands of hair that fell over her shoulder. To kiss her goodbye or hello. To drag her into his bedroom and--

Shooting to his feet, he stared down at Annie.

She looked so peaceful, while his heart was beating almost painfully hard in his chest.

"I like you, too," he repeated, voice low and husky with the realization that he actually was capable of love.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own Community and I make no money off of it.

"That's... no, left a little. Almost there. There! Smack it!"

Jeff swung the pillowcase at the camera, tossing Annie a bemused look. "I'm not knocking it down, just blocking it. And I'm only doing that because of your paranoia." Satisfied that the black cloth would do the job well enough, he stepped down from the stool, looking around them. "I can't believe I'm doing this. The things we won't do for Abed."

Annie, still focused intently on the camera, probably mentally knocking it down with a baseball bat, nodded slowly. "Are you sure we shouldn't just--"

"I'm sure, Annie. I'm not going to add vandalism to the evening's events." He stretched out on the bed closest to him with a sigh--it had the best mattress, great for his back--folding his hands behind his head. "You know, old-me is cringing right now."

"What, you mean lawyer-Jeff didn't do things like this?" She sat on the other side of the bed, gesturing around the department store.

He snorted and closed his eyes. "If you mean, did old-me go on zany, madcap adventures and sanity-lacking capers, then, no. Dinners, meetings in gentlemen's clubs, strip clubs, and exclusive clubs that I'm pretty sure had membership rules from before the civil war, yes, but overnight trips to stores to recreate movie scenes? No."

"Hm." She shifted beside him on the bed. "Old Jeff was a stick in the mud. I think I like the new Jeff better."

He opened his eyes, turning his head toward her. She didn't remember their conversation the night she'd gotten her stitches. The night she'd curled up against him and then fallen asleep. The night he'd realized he cared more about her than he had a right to. No. More than he wanted to.

The night he'd given in and lain beside her for a brief time before springing out of bed out and sitting on the couch.

Two weeks had passed and he still expected her to accuse him of perversion in the first degree. But, so far, there'd been nothing except surprise that he was still there the next morning.

And his own surprise at how much his walls were crumbling and his protestations were diminishing.

"What about Annie?" he asked, trying to get his mind off of his recent back and forth of feelings. He wanted her, he couldn't have her, he _could_ have her, but he shouldn't. He would have her, but he-- and there he began to lose steam and flounder for reasoning.

His feelings had no business making him think of them now, not in the mattress section of a store with beds surrounding them.

"Old Annie would've had a fit." She smiled a little, eyes far away. "She was all rules and regulations and study, study, study. But, since I let my hair down, metaphorically--"

"And physically," he reminded her, darting his eyes up to the ceiling, trying not to remember that study session.

"--and physically, I've loosened up a bit. I like to think so anyway. Old Annie would never do _this_." She gestured around them. "Or this!" She climbed on the bed and bounced a few times before dropping down again; hair wild, face flushed, eyes bright.

She was breathtaking.

Jeff felt his heartbeat double as he watched her. She made him feel young and free and as wild as her grin as she breathlessly chuckled.

Lying beside him, breathing a little heavier from her sudden attack of the bounces, she rested her hands on her stomach and stared at the ceiling.

"Old Annie would be appalled by the new Annie."

"Well, then, I like new Annie," he murmured, eyes on her lips. Inviting. Parted and waiting.

"She likes you too." There was an awkward silence as their eyes locked. They both looked away at the same time. "So, why isn't Britta your Kim Catrall?"

Startled from his trance, he darted his eyes back to hers. "Because I purposely made it sound as bad as possible so she wouldn't want to come."

She laughed and turned on her side, facing him with her head propped in her hand. "What did you do that for?" Her hair fell over her shoulder and his fingers itched to brush it back, but she beat him to it.

"Uh, because she's Britta? Vacuous and mannequin-ish, yes, but I didn't want to spend hours alone in a department store with the buzzkill."

"So, I got to be Emmy and Britta gets to be Thelma to Shirley's Louise?" She frowned. "I'm not sure I got the better deal here."

He silently huffed.

"And Abed and Troy are carrying Pierce around for a Weekend At Bernie's. Jeff, do you ever think we have extremely weird lives?"

"All the time."

She smiled, a pleased sound leaving her lips as she lay back again. "I should find something to wear. Or did you want to do something specific? Ooo, like a theme!"

Jeff rose up on one arm, gazing down at her. The lighting in the store was dim, but the moonlight was shining through the front windows, their final destination for the night. He hadn't thought too hard on what they'd wear, but he knew he wanted something in a suit and Annie in an evening gown. Beyond that... "We'll figure it out."

She turned a concerned look his way. "We shouldn't put it off. What if we can't find anything we like? What if-- are you sure your friend is okay with us doing this?" She eyed the camera, which was dead _and_ covered up thanks to her paranoia.

"It's fine." He settled back again. "George owes me. I got him out of a ticket a few years ago."

"Oh. That was nice of you."

"He paid me, Annie."

"Still. Hey, what about something sporty? Or, oh, you could be a pilot and--"

"We're in a small department store in Greendale, the best they have here is cheap Halloween costumes, which are gone because it's well past the New Year. I was thinking evening wear."

A grin curled her lips and she nodded, eyes brightening. "How very streets ahead of you."

"No," he warned, smile tugging at his own lips. "If you begin quoting Pierce, I'm leaving you behind to face the police alone."

She sat up quickly. "What? Jeff! I thought you said it was safe, that George--"

"Relax, Annie. I'm kidding."

Settling back on the bed so slowly that he counted to 22 before she was lying down again, she watched him warily as if she expected him to call her a sucker and make a run for it at any second.

His lips curved up again, chest lightening. "Gullible," he murmured, and before he realized what he was doing, his hand was on her cheek. When had she gotten so close? Her smile melted away as his lips hovered over hers. He shouldn't. Wouldn't.

Couldn't stop himself.

Closing the distance between them, he opened his mouth on hers. She met him halfway. It was a slow, lazy kiss, so different from all the others. He didn't feel that same sense of urgency he always felt with her, or the surprise that each kiss brought. He just felt comfortable and warm.

He slowed it down even more, then pressed his lips to hers once, twice, then a third time.

She smiled against his mouth. "What are you doing?"

"Pretty sure it's called kissing."

She pressed her lips lightly to his and then drew back a little ways, breath ghosting over his face. "Really, Jilly?"

"Lame." He wanted to kiss her again, but he was afraid that, if he did, he wouldn't be able to stop. And he really didn't want to stop.

He was weary. Tired of fighting this thing between them. Tired of constantly being aware of where his eyes or hands were in relation to Annie.

Rubbing his thumb along her jaw, he decided that he was done. He breathed a little easier for the first time in what felt like years. "I don't want to do this anymore." Before she could do more than stiffen beside him, he traced her cheek, so soft and warm, and continued. "I'm tired of pretending I don't want you. That this isn't something that I think about on an average of 30 times a day. Aren't you?"

She nodded, brow lowering, mouth turning down. "It's kind of exhausting." Her hand fidgeted with his shirt hem, eyes raising to his. "I'm not even sure why we're doing it."

Sliding his hand down her shoulder and arm, he drew in a breath. "You're young, and I'm... not."

"I don't care."

He nodded, because, at that moment, he didn't care either. Her hands fisted in his shirt, big eyes watching him, waiting for his next move. Letting him dictate their relationship. Instead of kissing her again or pulling away, he closed his eyes. "What do you want to do?"

The bed shifted as she shrugged against him. "I don't know, this seems like a really good idea right now." They were pressed leg-to-leg, shoulder to arms. And it felt awesome.

"And later?" Damn his newborn sense of morality, rearing its ugly, baby-sized head. It'd be nice if he could just take what he wanted from Annie without his conscience bothering him. When had he gotten one of those anyway? Smoothing his palm down her bare arm, he inhaled her scent; strawberries and Annie.

"It seems like a really good idea later, too. Mr. Magoo." She grinned against his lips before coaxing his open for another slow, wet kiss.

One that started his blood boiling, in a languid way.

"Now, you're just Britta-ing."

"Is that a thing? Really?" With a shrug, she cuddled into him. "Okay, I'm Britta-ing. So, sue me, Lucy Liu... ee." She giggled, and the lighthearted sound released something in his chest. Had he heard that sound over the past year?

Not as free and open as that. It was a beautiful sound.

"You need to laugh more often."

She smiled and closed the hairsbreadth between them, lips moving slowly over his, no urgency, no raging hormonal passion driving them to tear at one another, just a nice, lazy kiss that turned into mild petting.

Which turned into harsh breaths and exploring hands.

"Oh!"

Jeff drew back, staring at Annie, trying to catch his breath and ignore the hand she'd slid inside his shirt. Her fingers were half under his jeans, tickling his stomach. "Did you leave your oven on?"

"No. I--" She glanced pointedly down at his hand, which was cupped around her breast, under her blouse. He didn't remove it. "We have to get dressed before they get here." She nodded to the clock on the wall.

Jeff stretched atop her, peering over his shoulder at the clock. Shit. They'd been making out 40 minutes. He jumped up, freeing her hand from his jeans, though it almost pained him to do so. He was fully aroused, but ignored it for the time being. Later... later they would address this and many other things.  
For now, evening wear.

Annie darted up, straightening her clothes and smoothing her hair with little looks tossed his way.

********

Annie found a black dress that drew his eyes to all of her assets, which were actually pretty well-covered, but hot, too.

"Nice."

She beamed under his admiration and gave a tiny curtsy. "This old thing?"

He frowned, thinking she needed a hat. A glittery hat. With-- ah. He wrapped his hand around hers and drew her back to the women's section, grazing through rack after rack for what he wanted. The lights were mostly off, so he was going by moonlight and streetlamps through the windows, and a couple of emergency lights here and there.

Annie huffed out an annoyed, "Jeff, I can dress myself."

"Trust me." He handed her a hat. "This'll blow Abed's mind." He tilted the hat to one side, admiring his work. Close. "Jewelry."

"No, we shouldn't touch that. Aren't there alarms or something?"

"We'll use the fake plastic crap." He headed toward the jewelry counter, spinning the displays, on the lookout for anything that looked like what he needed. "No. No. No-- why do so many of these things say 'slut', 'bitch', and 'princess'? Doesn't this send the wrong-- ah, found something." Pulling the small, plastic-tagged, fake-diamond encrusted necklace free, he handed it to Annie.

"Um."

"Trust me." He spun the display, finding a pair of large earrings that were as close to what he needed as possible considering how much fashion had changed since the 80s. "These too."

She looked at them. "Fine, I'm trusting you, but they're kind of ugly and old lady like."

"On." He tilted the hat again, frowning. "This isn't working."

"Oh, good." She tossed the earrings to the glass counter case and took off the hat.

"I meant because of your hair. You need to do something with it. I'll get the guns while you curl your hair. What you need is over that way." He pointed behind her and to the right. "Aisle three."

"You do know you're getting into a really weird sort of micro-managing thing here, right? Also, guns?"

He leaned forward, pressing his lips lightly to hers, but then found that he couldn't pull away right away. Moving closer, he plastered his body against hers, pushing her back until she hit the display case.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Couldn't we just do this instead?"

Breathing a little heavier than before, he found the strength to pull back, found the part of him that hated himself and forced it to take over and deny him something he truly, truly wanted. So very much. "No." Forehead resting against hers, he squeezed her waist and stepped back. "When we're done here, we'll do lots of this instead. But for now, go that way and do that thing I said because I don't remember--"

"Guns."

"--guns, right. I'll be getting guns." He couldn't resist one last, quick kiss to her smiling lips. And then he headed off to the toy department.

"How should I curl it?" she called, heading in the opposite direction. "Also, you're quite cushy with where the hair products are."

"I've been known to shop here. And just do... big curls? Waves? I don't know. Think noir, but with an 80s twist."

"And that narrows it down," she muttered.

Jeff chuckled and left her to it, heading across the store to the toy aisle. His hormones, so firmly in check for the entire time he'd found himself attracted to Annie, had suddenly fallen by the wayside, dropping to the ground like rotting apples. He could hardly control himself now. He needed to get that control back.

But it was nice to let go for once. To let himself have the thing he'd been denying himself for a year and a half.

********

"Am I allowed to know who I'm being or is that a super secret thing between you and Abed?"

He made a few last second adjustments to her hat and necklace before turning her to the mirror. He stood in front of her, blocking her view, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, reveling in the fact that he could, whenever he felt like it. It was nice and pleasant, and who was he kidding? It was awesome.

"If you don't get this, fair warning, there'll be no more of this." He kissed her again and moved out of her way.

She slapped lightly at his arm before straightening and gazing into the mirror. After a good 20 seconds, a smile slid up her lips, turning into a full-fledged Annie-grin. Beautiful. "Oh, my god." She clapped her hands over her mouth, and gave a little hop, wide eyes shining brightly. "I can't believe I didn't realize... I've seen this movie only a dozen times. My dad and I used to watch old 80s movies on the weekend. He said that my life wouldn't be complete without them, even the cheesy ones. Ooo, where's my gun?"

Jeff handed Annie the toy Uzi he'd found. "Can we please place a moratorium on how I remind you of your dad?"

"You don't," she said absently, posing with the gun. Fluffing her hair a little, she turned and leaned against him kissing him lightly. "You're nothing like my dad, Jeff. Nothing like him. You look nothing alike, you sound nothing alike; you are nothing alike. Really."

Nodding, he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Just so we're clear, because nothing deflates an intimate moment faster than being told you're like the parent of the woman whose pants you're trying to get into."

"Clever."

He tipped his hat, holding up his own Uzi.

"And, how is that outfit Jonathon Swisher? Oh! You could dress as Santa and we could be Reggie and Star Trek guy."

"You're 80s movie knowledge is still appallingly lacking. Abed would shed a tear."

Annie smiled at him in the mirror, her eyes so soft and fond that he wanted to look away. He didn't. This was part of what they were now and he wasn't going to hide from it. "Abed's lucky to have a friend like you, Jeff. I mean, the Pulp Fiction thing for his birthday was awesome. And this, just because one of his shows was put on a few month's hiatus."

He shifted a little, uncomfortable under her scrutiny. "Hey, it's something we all agreed to do."

Pressing a light kiss to his cheek, she returned her attention to their reflections. "You're just a big ole softy. You can hide it and pretend all you want, but you're a marshmallow under all the bluster." She fiddled with her hair some more, watching him in the mirror between fluffs. Shifting her hat, she shrugged a little. "Maybe a little burnt around the edges with a crispy exterior, but--"

"No, I'm not, Annie. I'm a cruel, cynical old... er man who hurts people. I hurt people and I like it--"

Turning, she leaned against him with her hands flat on his chest, smiling against his lips. "But you don't mean to."

He went still, wondering if she remembered him telling her that the other night at her apartment. Did she remember any of it? Did it matter? This was what he'd wanted; Annie. Whenever he wanted to touch her, whenever he wanted to make love to her, and whenever he wanted to....

Sighing, he caught her chin in his hand. "You know I care about you, right?"

His chest tightened when she twisted her lips up and hesitated before nodding, wide eyes watching him, but not with trust. Maybe that was best.

Maybe it wasn't, because it hurt.

It broke his non-existent heart.

"I've hurt you, Annie. How many times now?" Setting the toy gun on one of the shoe displays, he brushed off her denials with a hard kiss. "I'll do it again. I can't stop hurting people. But I don't want to hurt you, and that's one reason that I didn't want this--" he pointed between them, "to happen." He stopped, shaking his head, staring into the darkened distance behind her. "Actually, that's not true. I always _wanted_ this to happen. I just didn't let it."

Annie stared at him blankly for a moment before bursting out laughing. "God, Jeff. Have you not met me? Or Britta or Troy or the rest of us? We're not un-crazy. In fact, I'm pretty sure we're certifiable to some degree. We're dysfunctional. We hurt one another." She shrugged, sobering with a teasing smile still lingering on her lips. "I smashed your head into a table, punched you in the nose, tried to mace you--"

"Did I ever mention how adorable you looked when you apologized? The mascara smudges were especially endearing."

She grinned. "Shut up." Snuggling into him, she wrapped her arms around his waist, and his own arms automatically went around her. " I'm sure we're going to hurt each other--I'll probably end up shooting you at some point--but is that any reason not to give this a try? Just because of bad things in the past?"

Feeling his chest lighten again, he suppressed his smile. "Being shot? Bonus. Will it be a purple, glitter-covered bullet?"

Rolling her eyes, she drew back. "Ignoring your dig at my awesome taste in décor... finish getting dressed and let's get this freak show on the road, because we have lots of insteads to do." She smacked his ass and grabbed her gun, posing with her head raised to the side, gaze on the ceiling. "I'm going to rock this thing like Steve McQueen."

"Yeah, you are, Jones comma Star."

"Cheater."

"You bring out the best in me." Maybe it wasn't all sorted out, and maybe it would end badly, but he was in it now, and could no longer find it in him to regret the decision for a single second.

They were going to be epic.

****

Jeff ended up changing into a beige suit that didn't look anything like an 80s suit, but with the hat and his gun--something Annie had insisted on--he thought that if Abed squinted he'd see it. "Next time, we bring our own clothes instead of scrounging for whatever we can find."

He posed with the gun in his arms, trying to look like a g-man with an 80s bent. Really it was just an oddball mix of genres and movies.

"But it's more fun like this; like a treasure hunt!" She glanced back at him, dropping the curtain from the doorway. "I can see them coming. They parked really far away."

"Probably to raise the anticipation."

"Right. Ooo, I like that pose. Very handsome." She kissed him and stayed pressed against him. Their lips languidly explored one another's mouths. He couldn't seem to keep his hands or his lips to himself now that he didn't have to.

Thankfully, she had the same problem.

"We should get into position."

" _Yeah_ , we should," he enthused, pushing her back against the doorjamb, letting her feel every inch of him that he could. Every inch of him that strained to come into contact with her. Every inch of him that wanted nothing more than to lay her on one of the beds and worship her body.

After having her a few times to get the immediate passion out of their systems. He had his limits.

She giggled, tearing her mouth breathlessly from his. "In the window, Jeff."

"You wanna do it in the window? Well, well, well." He leered suggestively and began walking her that way.

"Abed."

That cooled his ardor a little. "Right. Window." He drew away, breathing heavily, but trying valiantly to mask it. He was so used to pretending around her, that it took him a few seconds to remember that he didn't need to hide her affect on him anymore.

Peering through the curtain, she gasped.

"They're here!" Clapping her hands, she jumped and ran to her position, stilling in her pose; one knee bent, head tilted up to the side, gun in her hands.

"Sexy."

"Shh! Get into position."

He heaved a sigh and stood beside her, gun aimed straight at the window, but just before he pushed the button to send the curtains sliding open, he turned to face her. Her eyes shifted his way, but her head stayed as it was. A smile fluttered around her lips before disappearing behind a mask of stillness.

Dropping his suit jacket to the floor along with his gun, he quickly repositioned himself, settling his hand on Annie's neck, thumb raised along her jaw, mouth hovering over hers. There was no faking the intensity of his gaze.

He pressed the button, which sent the curtains sliding open.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Abed and the others gathered in front of the window. Abed stared at them for a second, and then another, while Jeff's anticipation amped up a few notches. He really wanted Abed to like it.

Because he was, officially, a Greendale Pansy; trademarked, copyrighted, stick a fork in him, he was done.

"Jeff," Annie stage-whispered, lips unmoving. "I can only she 'iercshe, and he'sh ashleep in a 'eelchair. Doesh A-ed like it?"

Abed's eyes widened and he nodded, clearly saying, "Niiiiiiiice." Grabbing one of the cameras around his neck, he flashed a few pictures, then picked up his camcorder and began filming them from different angles.

"He likes it," Jeff whispered back, interrupted by a sudden knock on the glass.

"Hey, Jeff," Abed said faintly, yelling to be heard, "is that from Gone With the Wind or Star Wars: Episode V?"

Offended, Jeff broke the pose and turned toward Abed, arms out. "First of all, Gone With the Wind? Really? Second of all, it's The Empire Strikes Back. I don't acknowledge the prequels."

"Not acknowledging what came before doesn't make them any less important or relevant."

Jeff glanced at Annie. It was true. Even after everything they'd been through; the punch in the nose, the macing, the head slam, and all the things he'd said to Annie just to hurt her and keep her at a distance, had led to this moment. His distancing techniques hadn't worked, and he couldn't have been happier.

Still, on principle, he wasn't in the mood for deep, tv-themed lessons. "They came after, Abed. And they sucked."

Abed stared at him, unblinking, then, "Can you get back into position?"

Sighing, giving Annie an annoyed look when she snickered at him, he moved back into position. Annie's eyes shifted to his, and he felt like the heat had been turned up by a gazillion degrees.

"Too bad there aren't any zombies stalking you."

"Ohhh," Troy squealed, hopping up and down with a grin. "That'd be _awesome_. Can I be a zombie? Please, please, let me be a zombie, Abed!"

Jeff barely heard the excited voices of their friends; barely acknowledged Britta's satisfied smirk aimed their way. Didn't notice the way Shirley was avoiding looking at them, and hardly saw Pierce's approving leer. Troy and Abed talked about a zombie/Star Wars crossover film with a Gone With the Wind tilt to it, but Jeff tuned them out.

Annie's eyes stayed on his and he found his mouth lowering to hers.

As their lips met, he decided that friends and lovers could, sometimes, mesh into something awesome.

He'd have to thank the dean someday. If not for him, Jeff wouldn't have wanted to hide. He wouldn't have taken Annie with him. Wouldn't have gotten caught, wouldn't have gotten sick. Wouldn't have happened upon Annie being flattened by Chang, and wouldn't have realized he loved her while watching over her as she slept off a drunken stupor.

If the dean hadn't blackmailed him into doing the dunk tank to keep Annie from flunking a class... they'd probably still be fighting this. Still be watching one another through lust-colored glasses, but doing nothing to slake that lust.

"It's all your fault," he murmured softly against her lips.

She grinned. "I accept full blame."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---------
> 
> So. I'm sorry if you were expecting big sweeping music and an epic kiss to rule them all. I had to buck that cliché, too.
> 
> Here's a short list of Things You Might Not Have Gotten:
> 
> \- the movie they originally went there to pose as was Mannequin, starring Kim Catrall and Andrew McCarthy.  
> \- the movie Annie ended up being from/talking about was Night of the Comet. She was Reggie from the scene at the mall.  
> \- the Santa dude from Night of the Comet was Robert Beltram, who also played Chakotay in Star Trek Voyager.  
> \- the pose Jeff and Annie were in from [The Empire Strikes Back.](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v89/sinecure/PrincessLeiaandHanSolo.jpg)  
> \- the pose Jeff and Annie weren't in from [Gone With the Wind.](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v89/sinecure/Famous-Movie-Kisses1.jpg) (along with a gajillion more)


End file.
